


Thank God It's Christmas

by ursoself-satisfying (catbusfurrever)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Party, Come Swallowing, F/M, Face-Fucking, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Smut, deaky, fun gay party guests, having sex on the host's bed count?, lost gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 21:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbusfurrever/pseuds/ursoself-satisfying
Summary: Deaky is all over the place Christmas night- Freddie's party is wild and he's uncomfortable for more reasons than one. On top of that, there's something he's been wanting to ask her, but tonight he needs something a little less romantic. Maybe it can wait until morning...





	Thank God It's Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> requested from my tumblr @ursoself-satisfying !!!!
> 
> John Deacon x F!Reader, NSFW 
> 
> A/N: based on some requests!!!! 7.7k words, took me longer than i thought it would yet its still rushed?? kinda wanted to sit on it but i also wanted it out on as close to Christmas as possible so here she is!!! not as fluffy as i originally wanted or intended but i might do a soft sequel idk im not much for sequels but we will seeeeeeee,,,,, also rip my generic ass holiday title,,,,,, so anyway happy boxing day!!!!!!!
> 
> Warnings: NSFW, no intercourse just blowjobs at Fred’s house, kinda kinky?? language and commitment, big sub!john here guys sorry,,, theres fluff at the very beginning and BONUS at the end is fluff if u wanna skip to it!!
> 
> playlist!!! vvv
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/criceloni/playlist/7CoaeajkS0DyoCcJvimPQH?si=CG5La36PQzmLpyLInPlr-Q

Deaky’s foot tapped against the cold tile floor at a rapid pace, twice that of the holiday music echoing through the spacious building. Anxious energy circulated through his veins for no reason he could figure yet. The masses of people around him, strangers mostly, in uncomfortably revealing ensembles pushed against him as he did his best to stand his ground in the entryway of the lavish house. Gilded accents adorned the perimeter of the ceiling, reflected the sparkle of the excessive fairy lights wrapped around every inanimate object within five feet of an electrical outlet. The colors varied from string to string and right then the bassist was standing beside a particularly bright bundle of rainbow bulbs that were strung halfway up the staircase banister. Perhaps it was the blinking and flashing of the decor and the poppers or the loud noises of the party horns and fireworks- He knew that wasn’t what was causing this dry feeling like his blood had turned to sand and he was weighed down where he stood. A tingly sort of feeling encased him in the form of holiday anxiety. It was the emotional tinsel of holiday maladies, properly named as such because of the irritating and hazardous tendencies of it.   
John tried to distract himself from his attempted denial of having such an issue by focusing on what he was even there for. The party? Well, that part was for Fred and the rest of the boys. They all came together, having brought their subsequent other halves to enjoy the celebration with them. His other half, however, was late and that sent him into a natural flurry of worry. Why hadn’t she arrived yet? Where was she? Was she ok? Had something happened and he didn’t know? Deaky wasn’t a weak-willed man by any means, nor did he lack confidence, but he did have an excess of love which unfortunately came with a side order of fear. How early in the relationship was too early to say ‘I love you’, he wondered, or perhaps say something more. The first bridge had been overcome probably quicker than it should have. From the moment he saw her, he knew he loved her, he would say, but now it was time to show that. He wanted to solidify this feeling and ask her, after all that she’d done for him, if she’d be willing to spend the rest of their lives together. That’s what he’d been wanting to say to [Y/N] all month but had been putting it off for a special evening together. He’d had one planned, actually, but the party had taken precedence over his private arrangements. No one had meant to throw off his plans, no one had known he’d even had plans. Of course, he couldn’t say no to those shining round eyes as Roger had really insisted the two of them attend. [Y/N] was all for it, loving the idea of spending the holidays with the boys without considering what kind of parties it was that Freddie threw.   
It had started out nice enough, to be quite honest, but of course, every plus one had a plus one and the door was eternally open at the singer’s shiny new home so the “little get together”, as Freddie had so fondly called it, quickly passed capacity. A drag queen emerged from the hall beside John carrying a man in a leotard with a pink glitter beard. He subsequently held an entire bottle of red wine which he graciously poured down the queen’s front. It dripped and stained both of them as the one in the dress stumbled against the doorway with a booming laugh, caught themselves, then continued through the foyer. John had jumped out of the way, aware that they weren’t aware and if he didn’t move himself he would be move. He watched the two continue to trip and stumble through the tight, growing crowds of colorful fabrics and feathers, always somehow managing to stay upright. Quite a feat to be partying, or doing anything really, in studded 12-inch heels, Deaky thought, though he’d seen far stranger things in this house.   
A tap on his shoulder caught him off guard and he turned quickly, only to come nose to nose with the exact person he’d been longing for. [Y/N] stumbled back at the man’s sudden spin and surprised look. She laughed loudly at him as she watched his entire face light up at the sight of her. His smile was soft and buttery and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes was like rays of sunlight breaking through the leaves of a snow-covered tree. It took a millisecond for her to take in all his features, soft nose and chin and cheeks framed cushiony lips and a gap-toothed smile that seemed to melt all the cold of the outside off your shivering bones. John disregarded her reverent moment of appreciation, as he was ignorant of it occurring at all, and engulfed the woman in a tight embrace.   
She was glowing when he saw her, nose and lips pink and chapped and skin tight from the winter freeze she’d walked through. She sniffled to keep the snot from dripping drown her upper lip and her dry eyes watered from the environment. He thought she looked absolutely beautiful. “I hadn’t even noticed you’d come in,” he said, lips pressed against the side of her stiff face. His fluffy mop of hair filled in the space between their heads as his hands dug into the padded layers of the heavy overcoat she wore. His warm breath was hot and startling on the frigid hairs on the back of [Y/N]’s neck. Her nose was pink and numb from the temperatures beyond the threshold of the mansion, but she could still smell the contrasting remnants of booze and aftershave in her lover’s hair as well as soaked into his holiday sweater. Her arms were stiff by her sides, gloves in one hand and a large canvas bag in the other. Though the heat of his body against hers was a warm relief, the freeze had yet to wash from her. Upon noticing the lack of movement coming from his companion, the excited brunette let go, slipping his palms over her cold fingers instead.   
“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to surprise you!” She laughed and pecked a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Hold on and help me with this, would you?” Straight to business, she handed him the oversized bag in her hand. It was painful for her to let go of him, but she did so nevertheless and proceeded to rid herself of the layers of warmth she wore. Beneath the furs and sweaters, her form was revealed and the poor musician beside her nearly dropped the bag he held. Every part of her was stunning and every time she showed himself to her he was just as awestruck as the first time. Every time since then he’s prayed the fit of his jeans would act as a functional restraint for the way she made him feel.   
She’d hung her knits and overcoats in the closet beneath the stairs. When she’d opened the closet door, she was welcomed by a face full of sequence and an explosion of dangerous looking leather straps. Carefully, she placed her items near the back where they were least likely to be contaminated y feathers, glitter, or other transferable fabrics. “Feel a bit out of place dressed so smartly,” she started smoothing out the front of her garment, “didn’t know the dress code was Carnivale showgirl otherwise I would have dressed accordingly.” With a small laugh, she turned to John who stood open mouthed and unresponsive. “John?”   
A solid pat on the arm should have shaken him from his trance. His eyes had caught hers, twinkling in the festive lights she stood by, all the colors becoming a kaleidoscope over her irises and he lost himself in it. [Y/N] was used to this by now, this dazed look he would have sometimes. She recognized it as one of utter love and didn’t mind the price for such a moment was repeating her side of the conversation. Chuckling, she softly hit him again. The man made a confused noise, like the whine of a puppy, and his lips trembled for a moment before forming a sheepish grin. He cocked his head to the side apologetically. “Sorry, I- I did it again, didn’t I?” His laugh was warm and familiar. “What were saying, love?” His raised brows urged her to continue.   
The closet door closed with a quiet clack and [Y/N] went to take her bag from him. “Nothing,- Nothing, just- I look a bit out of place, don’t I?” She leaned close to him as she said this, scrunching up her nose and smiling as she observed the loitering guests who passed through the halls around them, every item they wore caught the light in blinding ways.   
John looked back at his partner and bit his bottom lip with an amused smile, “I think you look lovely.”   
[Y/N] tore her attention from the gentleman strolling past them, clad completely, completely, in leather with only a hole where his mouth should be. The sweet face beside her was a stark contrast to her surroundings and she melted a little upon meeting his eyes which never strayed from her, regardless of what may have been hovering around them. “You always say that.”   
She breathed a thankful sigh and Deaky eagerly responded, “Well, that’s because it’s always true. You do always look lovely.” She shot him a sly grin, eyes squinted playfully as she shook her head at him.   
[Y/N] shyly turned her gaze to the floor, “John-” A burst of noise shook them both, which was saying something for how loud and busy the party already was. A gaggle of girls, quite obviously drunk and giggling, all clad in jockey uniforms, moved through the halls in a huddle. They carried an array of mismatched sporting equipment above their heads and at the end of each one was tied a bough of holly and mistletoe.   
“It’s the holly brigade!” One of the guests announced and all the girls cheered and laughed at their name being called.   
“No, no! I thought we were the mistletoe militia!” A member of the group shouted.   
“The December draft!” Another called out. The rest of the assembled group groaned at the name, little spouts of ‘That’s the worst one yet!’ and ‘Not this again!’ were heard. “Oh, kiss my smooth fuckin’ ass, Bernice!”   
“Fuck you, Priscilla! Maybe I will! Maybe that’s what I’m here to do, Goddamnit!”   
The quiet couple turned to each and blinked, not surprised but still amused. Apparently, one of the gaggle had sniffed out the two of them and made it their mission to change their position. “Looks like we have some victims!” A redhead exclaimed, moving her hockey stick above John’s head, the festive garnishes hanging from it dangling in front of his nose and swaying often to hit him in the face. He swatted at them defeatedly with a weak smile. The crowds around them cheered at the earlier announcement and began to chant, ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ John was red in the face, no, deeper than just red. He was the same color as the beetroots Freddie would send them from his garden. The man quickly scanned the crowds, a shaky breath leaving his lips. His fingers walked up his neck to fiddle with his ear, something he subconsciously did when he was flustered. [Y/N] smiled at the gesture, seeing it out of the corner of her eye.   
The entire population of the small room focused on the pair of them. The weight of expectation and anticipation mixed to form a bittersweet scent rolling over them. Noses nearly touching now, sharing breaths, [Y/N] leaned in close to her lover, staring into his soft eyes with half hooded ones of her own. “What do you say, John? Give the people what they want?” After a hesitant nod and a shy, but mischievous smile from him, [Y/N] pushed against him eagerly. The audience roared and laughed, whoops and hollers not enough to break the two of you apart. A female voice above the loud whistles and commanded the team of matchmakers to move on.   
Lost in each other, John held his girl by her arms, squeezing her tightly. Her still purple fingernails dug into his shoulders as their lips moved in sync. Not that the collision had started at all chaste, but by now it was most certainly the opposite. He tasted like fruity champagne and something salty, she thought, hands snaking up the back of his neck. She could picture him before she’d arrived, securing a place by the snack table, claiming the cheese and crackers she tasted now. Their tongues intertwined sloppily and they rocked back and forth with the pull and push of their want for one another. His large hands cradled her head and kept them together, her hair falling over his long fingers like waves of light.   
The heavy sack she carried on her shoulder slipped to her elbow and ripped them apart. “Oh-!” Catching her sides, John laughed. “Sorry-! Sorry,” She chuckled, pulling her ominously full bag up back up her arm. Dragging the back of her hand across her mouth, she cleaned the shared saliva off her face then reached forward to wipe the corners of her partner’s mouth. God, he was cute when he was flustered. His chest rose and fell quickly, blush not fading. His gaze fell down her body. She followed suit and took in his whole form, aware of the subtle bulge below his waistline.  
His swollen lips parted and he began to speak quietly, “You’re-”   
“You’re too much for me, John Richard Deacon.” She interrupted with a wink. The man mentioned laughed cautiously and pulled away as his cheek was pinched by his pucker lipped lover. “Why don’t you take us to the boys then, hm?” She re-adjusted her bulging bag on her shoulder, looking petite in comparison to it. It reminded John of a child on their first day of school, packs full of far more supplies than they need.   
He glanced through the doorway leading to the moonlit foyer, overwhelmed with characters. Somewhere through there, he knew, was the rest of the band. Did he really want to risk the trip? Venture into the great party beyond? “They’re, well,” he nodded towards the most crowded room, “last I knew, they were somewhere in there.”   
“Oh,” [Y/N] paused a moment, then straightened up and took a deep breath, inhaling her courage. She looked to her companion and nodded firmly. “If we don’t make it out,” her hand drifted to stroke John’s lost face dramatically, “tell the kids I love them.” A stoic expression stared back at the man before he broke and laughed, rolling his eyes.   
“You think I’d let anything happen you?” He cooed, faux offense filtered through the phrase. He pressed a barely tangible kiss to her cheek before taking her hand from his face and lacing his fingers between his instead. “Come on then, Miss Desmond,” with a laugh, he pulled her behind him and they entered the Coliseum.   
Though she’d been giggling just seconds before, the mood was irrevocably shifted to something much more chaotic and disruptive as soon as they crossed the threshold from the entryway to the rest of the house. Not to say the mood was darker, because the bright colors and happy faces around them would deny any sadness ever existed there, but the air was heavier. Maybe it was the influx of bodies, making it noticeably warmer around them, or perhaps it was the “party favors” that the guests had brought themselves.   
Streamers, though nicely strung at one point, now looked haphazardly flung about the chandelier and rafters. Against the white of the ceiling and walls, the streamers looked almost like the northern lights, all pastel and waving in the wind of the tall open windows. Freddie always did have good tastes, though lavish, [Y/N] thought as the couple squeezed between the grand piano, suffocated in fairy lights and hard to look at, and a large man in a wrestler’s costume. It smelled awfully of alcohol and sweat. By the end of the night, she was sure she would reek of salt and sickly sweet candies. Clinging tightly to the full bag at her side, the girl was jostled around unceremoniously as the crowd bounced to the beat of whatever pop song blared through the speakers.   
John looked back over his shoulder at his tail when his hand got a violent squeeze. He was greeted by an accompanying look of terror, cradling her luggage in front of her. Her wide eyes bore into his and, though her discomfort was nothing to laugh at, her wide, thin-lipped, teeth-baring grimace was. The curly haired man couldn't help but smile, full of sympathy for her state. He turned again to face forward as he foraged through the forest of party goers and hopped a few times to gain some sense of direction. When they’d entered, he’d spotted the cluster of chairs and pillows he’d been lounging on earlier and headed that way. There was no counting on the boys to still be there, but he had no other guesses. Glancing back again, he decided his friend needed a break from the journey and pulled off from the mass of bodies, heading up the stairs to the significantly emptier second floor.   
Nearly tripping over the first step, [Y/N] rushed up the carpeted stairs behind her boyfriend to the secondary location. There was a couple midway through a hot make-out session in one corner and another very obviously feeling each other up leaning against the banister. The two took refuge in the small hall leading to the bathroom. The party thumped beneath them, physically able to feel the celebration shaking up through the floor. [Y/N] took one last look back at the chaos they’d just left, grateful to have done so. In the pause, she finally let the tension roll off her and she dropped her tote bag at her feet. “Thanks for getting me out,” she started, a bit out of breath. “So, are they up here, do you think?” Turning back to John, she raised her eyebrows in doubt. “John!”   
The bassist snapped his head to face the voice calling him, a deep blush spreading from his nose to his ears. Knowing he’d turned from where the 2 men pressed firmly against each, so much so they nearly toppled over the second story railing, [Y/N] didn’t say anything. Judging from his face and a speedy glance at his pants, she could reasonably assume he was a little bit, how to say, frustrated. “Sorry, what-”   
“Nothing,” she said softly, assuring without outright saying that it was ok and he didn’t need to be embarrassed. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Their days together were often interrupted by an impatient or emotional Deaky, crimson-faced and needy. He never said anything, his lover was always the on to initiate it when she could tell it was necessary. Poor boy would suffer through it if she wasn’t with such an observant partner. She stepped to the side and looked around the corners. After scanning their surroundings, concluding there were approximately 5 couples engaging in varying activities upstairs (2 in the halls, 2 in the bedrooms, and 1 in the bathroom), she came to the conclusion that then might be an opportune time to help out little Deaky. “Hey, babe,” she started carefully, “Would you maybe wanna duck into this room here?” She nodded at the door they’d been parked in front of in the small hall. “We got lucky, there are no lewd noises coming from this one.”   
While his lover wiggled her eyebrows at him, John adjusted his pants and grimaced. Few words had been spoken since they’d changed locations. “Are you sure?” He knew exactly what she was doing. She always did this, she took care of him. He regretted how guilty he felt whenever these situations occurred and she was the one with the initiative to resolve it. God, he couldn’t help that every time he looked at her he was just overcome with want. She had that effect on men or, well, maybe just him, he hoped. It was just the way she stood and carried herself, the way she moved with such grace and promise. He’d seen her far too many times in far too many intimate ways to not have fallen completely in love with every breath she took. Her voice alone drove him mad and she took full advantage of that when she wanted to.   
Too often though she didn’t have to do anything for him to get excited. This occasionally caused problems for them, particularly in instances much like the one they were in just then. The two of them would be making small talk, at a party or, or just hanging out with the boys but it would be a social time and an inconvenient one for them to slip away. [Y/N] always noticed, though, as, though the boy was ignorant of it, she never took her eyes off him just as he never did her. His discomfort was like a searchlight for her, obvious and urgent. Too polite to say anything in public and too afraid of messing it up, John never excused himself. [Y/N] always seemed to know how to handle it, though the rest of the band would usually figure out why they’d run off anyway.   
There were no friends or guests up here to trick and an empty room right in front of them. It was easy and convenient, “And the boys aren’t looking for us, are they?” [Y/N] cocked her head in question, convincing her other half to take this time to let off some steam. “I want a moment with you,” she spoke in a lower voice now, pulling him towards her by hooking her fingers in the waist of his skin-tight jeans. Their chests collided and John caught himself on her shoulder. Gripping her upper arms tightly, he suppressed a groan, the strain against his erection becoming too much. Her voice, her movement, her command- He was weak, but only for her.   
Inches separating them, the brunette leaned forward and was blessed with her scent, that of a garden after a heavy rain, cinnamon sticks, and the familiar backseat of a London cab. “I suppose there’s no harm,” he replied with a sly smile, breathing a soft laugh on her cheek. For a few seconds, he had the opportunity to revel in her presence and in his fragile state it almost pushed him over the edge. Distracted, he stumbled forwards after the woman when she pushed back at the door behind her, slipping in when it swung open. They disconnected as she shut the door after the musician. This gave them a chance to examine the room of their chosen connection.   
It looked like Fred’s room to them. The walls were littered with framed photos of the singer himself and old Hollywood actresses. A heart-shaped vanity made [Y/N] laugh but the real giveaway was the king-sized canopy bed in the center of the room. Fur throws covered the upper half of the mattress and the colors of the entire room were coordinated reds and pinks. Romantic, she thought, and very Freddie. “Deaky, take note, I want my life to look like this room.” Heading straight for the lavish looking bed, [Y/N] swept away the sheer curtains surrounding it and dramatically fell onto the plush covers. They engulfed her and she was lost in this sea of rose-colored satins, curling like a cat and twisting through the sheets with purrs and mewls to accompany her graceful stretching.   
As the only other person in the room, Deaky was there to witness it all. His attention strayed from the florally patterned trinket he examined on the dresser. She was glowing, shining through the sheer folds hanging from the canopy obstructing his view. True to theme, the way she curled and twisted on the bed reminded John of the same stars hung on the walls. She’d look perfectly fit in a black and white melodrama. He imagined her sprawled across the bed in shadows, donning a silk slip, lace trim slowly sliding up her thigh as she turned, straps falling from her shoulders as she moved- Deaky was suddenly very uncomfortable. His focus locked on the woman on the mattress and his feet took him quickly to stand over her, intention weighing down his every footstep.   
Laughing to herself quietly as she buried her face in the velvet throw pillow beside her, [Y/N] didn’t notice the arrival of her lover now planted between her dangling knees. “I’m not sure how entirely appropriate it is to be, uh,” he paused to laugh a bit but as she turned to face him, now aware of his presence and position standing between her legs- His breath hitched. He regretted using the word ‘glowing’ to describe what she was, it simply wasn’t enough. It was like watching a miracle happening before him every time that sultry filter shone across her face. Darkened irises peaking through long, low lashes as she licked her plump lips waiting for him to continue, it all drove him crazy. “How appropriate,” he tried again to get his thought out in broken words, “to be, uh, fucking- fucking on the host’s bed.”  
[Y/N] sat up slowly arching her back and pulling her shoulders back in a stretch, her hands making electric contact with the thighs in front of her. She swore she could almost hear the buzzing of the sudden energy surging between the two of them. Her fingertips squeezed his leg, nails digging in lightly to the denim holding him together. A shuddering breath fell from his lips upon the shoulders of the woman below him and it washed over her. She was baptized by his sound crowning her, filling her with the final drops of motivation she needed, knowing this feeling of accomplishment from making him lose control of his basic instincts like this would be rewarded to her tenfold after their rendezvous. The pads of her slim fingers traipsed up the front of his legs and caught the hem of his tight Christmas coverall, tugging on it for his attention, then letting the same clingy digits hook into the belt loops around his waist to yank him closer.   
John was hypnotized by the beauty that belonged to the powerhouse before him, lost in the maze of a hazy halo that seemed to always be floating around her. He was pulled from the dreamy vision by a tug on his shirt and his hips being pulled forward. The heat of his lover’s gaze when he lowered his eyes to meet hers bore through him and he could feel his face burning, even more, somehow he was sure he was turning even redder. Her face was level to his crotch and slowly she leaned to press her cheek to it. The obvious bulge was warm and sensitive through the garment as she put her face to it.  
Images of her raced through John’s mind when she did this and they were enough to make a whore blush. Some were memories from past coitus, some fantasies he’d been too ashamed to share, but all were absolutely irreverent. One of her with her lips locked around the base of his cock, she was kneeling on a bed much like she was at the present. Her eyes were low and full of lust, dilated pupils making them shades darker than usual. Her makeup was smeared, lipstick was strewn halfway across her cheek and her mascara leaking down her face as black tinted tears rolled down the sides of her face. Her brows were upturned tiredly, past her first orgasm and nearing her second. Her nose was pink and soft, hitting against his pubic hair every time he was hilted in her mouth. He was practically there, feeling the tightness of being deep in her throat, hot and wet and so pleasurable. In the back of his memory, he could hear her muffled gags, feel them vibrating around his cock, sending ripples of ecstasy through him until he came. Her eyes would roll back and the gurgling guttural noise that came from the depth of her stomach as thick ropes of cum flooded her passage. Neck thick with his length, she was overwhelmed, eyes rolling back white, breathing quickening. She had been face fucked within an inch of her life and he had loved every second of it. Her reactions could put him over without effort- her looks, her sounds, every way she felt when she was convulsing around him, milking him for all he was worth.   
A cutting snap echoed through the room as [Y/N] had pulled back the elastic hem of his underwear and let it hit the skin across his hip bones. It broke John from the fantasy he’d fallen into. The sting of the snap hung on the red line it left behind. When he finally got over the shock of it, his eyes met [Y/N]’s. She wore a bemused smile cocked her head with a laugh. “Where’d you go there, rocketman?” At this point, she’d undone his pants and began slipping them down his legs. Slowly, her hands caressed the exposed skin, starting at the slivers shown at the tops of his thighs.   
As soon as the jean had inched past the end of his length, his arousal was set loose and sprung upward. The stretchy fabric of his of his undergarment of choice wasn’t nearly enough to hold him in position. His erection strained against the cotton he wore, only stopping it from hitting his stomach and instead having it curve outward. The girl was eye level with the outlet of his want. It was throbbing and stuck straight out, aimed at her, darker at the tip, wet because of his leaking pre-cum. She licked her lips at the appetizing sight and all her lips were wet, dripping in excitement for the feast she faced.   
“I, um,” he was going to explain, though reluctantly, where his mind had wandered but was interrupted by his grateful release. A wavering moan played like music to his lover’s ears. Relief engulfed him, he thought, but then realized it was simply the absence of pain and now he was left with undefined arousal and need. A pinch on the bottom of his buttcheek reminded him to continue his story, but when he tried to speak, it wasn’t words that came out.   
‘Squeak’ is the best word to describe the sound he made. [Y/N] responded with a pleased squeak of her own and, now that his lover torso was sufficiently accessible, went on to slip her fingers between the fabric and the soft skin at his hips. She didn’t mind the tighty-whiteys to be quite honest. It fit his personality.   
“What were you saying, love?” Sparkling eyes searched for his as eager fingers hooked through the legs of his last cover, pulling them slowly down. The waistband slid down his shaft and pushed it down until it was catapulted by the final slip of grey elastic. The slap was quiet and muffled as his slick head collided with the rough knit of his seasonal wear. [Y/N] bit her lip at the reveal and looked up at the even more relieved Deaky. Anticipation spread across his features as he waited to be touched, forgetting what she’d just asked him. She’d completely forgotten as well, dismissing it for the option of palming at the sensitive skin of the cock grandly standing before her, feeling the pulse of his love on the patterns of her hands.   
“Oh,” John did his best to taper his breathing from the heavy gasps moments before, “please, please, [Y/N]-” The hand slid up his dick and when it came down, his erection was wrapped in hot digits. Playing down his erect length like scaled on a piano, she rubbed, bringing down the clear stick from his head to lubricate him. She squeezed an unseemly grunt from him and he had to lean against the bedpost to stay upright. His knuckles turned white from the desperate grip he held on the dark wooden pole, the pole of his own finally touched. [Y/N] shifted as her man’s knees fell against the tall mattress, picking up the pace with her hand, then adding another.   
“Do you want me to use my mouth?” She nodded and spoke delicately. She held one hand at the base of his cock, threading her fingers through the forest above his manhood and using her thumb to stroke the start of his balls. Deaky’s eyes drifted to her falsely innocent face, struggling with forming a comprehensive answer. His mouth hung open with unspoken want and he swallowed his words before he could throw them back up in the form of a weak gurgle that translated to ‘yes’. “Ok, sweetie, because you asked.” Bittersweet tones flew to his ears while a sudden wet warmth dripped down from the tip of his shaft.   
Soft lips enveloped his head and it continued down. Her tongue swirled around the end of his length, rough texture tasting all the sweet excitement Deaky couldn’t hold back. Two hot intakes of breath was all the girl could hear as she took more and more of his erection in her mouth. She was suctioned to his fifth appendage and felt every ripple that made up the skin around his muscle. He could feel her tongue tracing every pulsing vein and he hit the back of her throat, sporadically thrusting into the hot, slick cavern of her mouth. By now his hand had reached to the back of her head and pushed into her, a fistful of her hair knotted in his hand. The bunch he held acted as a rein when he face fucked his lover with increasing need.   
[Y/N] ground down into the mattress she sunk into, pushing for her soaking pussy to get some minimum contact. Her hips rolled and pressed down as best she could, sure she was wetting the bed with how aroused she was. One had was gripping Deaky’s bare ass and the other followed her spit covered lips at a quickened bouncing pace. Every time she felt the back of her throat hit the tip of his cock, lips sucking at his base, nose tickled by pubes and teeth barely brushing his blood vessels. She got nostrils full of his scent, musky and hot, like the first hot day after a rain in the city. He hilted himself in her and gasped so grossly and desperately, she was sure it could be heard outside the room.   
When John looked down, it was too much like his fantasy. “God, fuck- please,” he begged, “swallow.” Her pleading, glistening eyes narrowed and the wave of pressure that rolled down his shaft from her tightening tongue brought him to the edge. Curses and dirty, profane things spilled out from his normally clean lips, seeping through the cage of his teeth in an eye-rolling ecstasy. The flood of sounds that drove through [Y/N]’s ears brought her an accomplished feeling until the stream of hot white love filled her cavity. She grunted through her filling mouth, pushing down the thick liquid from her lover. She gulped it down gutturally, hot wave running down her chest as it traveled. Her hands were tightly holding to his sides, hiking up the thick sweater still handing off his thin form.   
Like an hourglass filling with sand, Deaky felt pin like tingles roll through him from his toes to his head as he came. A shiver ran down his spine and every muscle from his softening erection out tensed. He twitched in the wet velvet sleeve of his girlfriend’s throat. Knowing that every spurt shot down the tunnels and to her stomach got him off even more. It was disgusting from a blatant perspective, but fuck, it was so hot. She took it all from him so willingly after his ask. The stills of his best memories sped across his mind and it nearly perfectly matched his view with her hair pulled back in his balled hand and longs long, shining from smeared excitement left across her face. Nothing could make the situation less arousing but there came a point when he had nothing left to give.   
Lips ‘o’ shaped and eyes shut, to [Y/N] he was a vision of pure beauty. His hair floated above him in a soft halo and he was angelic. No light shone off him, no reflection of holy images resembled his position, but he was still an angel. His release had come quick but it was no surprise to his partner. Downing the last of his salty high, [Y/N] continued to move and milk his dick for the last of his cum, final drop on her tongue mixing with her swishing spit and following suit as she swallowed one last time. Her mouth popped off his end and she wiped away the mess around the orifice with her sleeve, immediately regretting doing so afterward. Deaky hovered above her, breathing heavily, unevenly. She could almost see the hot puffs leaving his mouth like a little dragon, the cold of the season not entirely being kept out of the home but the both of them too hot and bothered to notice. Her own breathing was strangled and could be heard through the room.   
A rush of feeling finally returned to the man standing and he lowered his gaze to meet that of his partner’s. She smirked at first, but it quickly turned to a tired laugh as she moved to attempt to fix her unseemly hair. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He gingerly tucked his limp extension back into his stretched underwear and sat down limply beside her, not bothering to pull up his tight pants at all. [Y/N] placed a cold, damp hand on his hot thigh. They turned to each other and smiled softly. Her free hand went to cradle the side of his face and press her lips against his, pulling him to her. They remained connected while she lifted herself from her kneel and scooted closer to him. One hand slid up his thigh while they beat their lips against one another in sync. It took all her self control not to encourage the growing ache echoing from her core as she pushed hard against the man beside her. She tasted like hot skin, like sweat and salt and underneath were subtle hints of holiday chocolates and candied apples, but overall, she tasted like him. He could feel himself on her lips and he pulled away. She looked dazed and a bit disappointed at the sudden lack of contact. “I don’t think it’s the best idea to get this started again,” he said, though his eyes hung on her parted, swollen lips, “not here or really right now-” He saw the way her thighs clenched when her squeezed his slender fingers around her forearm. His neglect drove guilt through his bones and he tilted his head slightly with a softened look. “I’m so sorry, love-” It was more than a whisper, but only barely rising above the low level when she kissed him again.   
This time it was softer still. Her lips on his, curled in a forgiving smile and warm but only for a moment. “It’s Christmas, Johnny, a time for giving,” she spoke quietly against his lips.   
“No, it’s not, I wanted to ask you something tonight- It was supposed to be about you- I had plans-” He stuttered.  
“Save them.” In her eyes, he could see some knowing shine, some reflection of himself to calm him down from his rising worry. She broke the eye contact with a sideways glance and continued with a sweet smile. “Anyway, I’m flattered it takes so little to get you up for me,” her hand ghosted over crotch before retracting and smoothing over the tops of her legs, “but sometimes, to be honest, I think it’s more the tightness of your jeans than it is me that gets you so-” Pausing to stand, she continued, “eager.” With a wink, she extended a hand to help the bassist up off the deeply plush bed. He smiled back sheepishly and accepted her assistance, struggling to pull himself up. Once he did, though, he waddled a step forward then pulled the very fitted pants back up, making himself decent again.   
[Y/N] started a leisurely walk back to the door, signaling John to follow. He did so and they shared the same thought, embracing one another in open arms. [Y/N] hummed against the heavily festive knit shoulder of her lover. “So, do you think we should go find the boys now? I brought gifts and I’d like ‘em to see them before they pass out or are drunk beyond belief.” She breathed a laugh and her hot breath his John’s ear. He shivered then pulled back with a laugh.   
“Is that what’s in that great, hulking bag of yours?”   
“Well, what else? I’ll get it and we can-” She reached for the door and swung it open, only to find an empty space where her sack had once been. Deaky thought he could feel the air chill upon the woman’s realization. “MY FUCKING GIFTS-” 

Somewhere in that mansion at that very moment, there was a group very drunk, very loud girls with very persuasive sports gear wandering around and delivering presents to every physically engaging couple they could find, starting by handing a signed Cheap Trick album to an incoherent drag queen nursing an oversized martini. There was now a who man wore a new sweater covered in cats and a woman had a coordinated set of sunglasses all on at the same time, meaning 6 pairs lined up on top of one another, wandering around as well. With a distant crash, a very nice custom pair of clogs was thrown through a high window and oblivious to this all was a couple, upstairs, in the host’s bedroom. 

BONUS:  
The light shining through the open window woke the woman up first, but the sleep was shaken from her when she reached out for another warm body to comfort her shivering one. The thin sheets were not enough to block out the cold over her nakedness. Rolling over with a grumble, she looked at the clock. 10 A.M. on December 26th. Christmas was over and everyone was better off for it. So what if no one had gotten any gifts intended for them? They’d had each other last night and that was more than enough for her, though the sting of losing her work still hung on her ego. She tried not to think about it. Instead, she sat up and scanned the room for her boyfriend, upset by his absence. Then from around the corner, he came, clad only in fresh boxers and contrastingly the same soiled sweater from the night before. He was blurry n her sleep crowded vision and she questioned him as she rubbed her eyes. “Deaky, baby, what have you got there?” Her words trailed off into a yawn and she stretched, eyes closed, though she could feel the mattress shift under her lover’s applied weight.  
“What I wanted to ask you- Well, what I mean to say- What I wanted to ask you about last night- Oh, well,” he laughed softly, sounding like he’d only just woken up as well. The woman in bed blinked slowly at him and leaned her body towards his heat, hands finding his arm. The man watched her lovingly, starry-eyed, fingers fiddling with his ear. He took one smaller hand in his large ones and placed a cold circle to her palm. “This isn’t really how I wanted to do it, but then I thought it didn’t matter how I did it- I realized I just needed to get it done.” Slowly, the same realization washed over her face and she stared at the shining round object in her hand, suddenly very awake. “I had planned to do it last night, but, well,” he chuckled and his gaze fell shyly for a moment before he was back to intently observing his lover’s reactions, “it was a bit crazy and things got in the way and I just wanted to say-”  
Tears welled in the girl’s eyes, pulling them away from the modest diamond ring that sat cold in her cradled hands. When he looked at her, tears came flooding to his eyes, too. He laughed through the rolling drops, wiping them away quickly and smiling wide with crinkling eyes. “I love you, [Y/N] hopefully Deacon,” he enunciated the future name, “and I would be-” Chocking on a sob, he continued, “Would you please do me the grand pleasure of becoming my wife?”  
Large dollops of tears fell freely from both sets of eyes now and wet sobs filled the room. She laughed lightly and nodded, hesitantly at first then eagerly. “Yes, yes!” A guffaw escaped her and her future husband snorted in response. They were both laughing now, crying and laughing sitting on their bed in the late morning, Boxing Day. From the outside, it may have seemed like an odd or even uncomfortable scene, but then they threw their arms around each other, no need to communicate with any verbal expression. They knew one another inside and out, maybe more than they knew themselves. She melted into him and held his curly hair close to her. She breathed hotly and sniffled. “This is a wonderful Christmas-”  
“It’s Boxing Day, darling,” he whispered with a gentle laugh.  
“I love you so much, John Deacon.”


End file.
